


Almost

by tilly90



Category: Harry Potter - Fandom
Genre: Almost moments, Alternate Universe - Dark, Angst and Feels, Battle of Hogwarts, Draco the artist, F/M, Heartbreak, Peeves is a cock block, Rollerblading because 90's, Stealing Toads, Stupid giant chicken, Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, Years 1-7, draco redemption, dramione - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-03
Updated: 2017-07-03
Packaged: 2018-11-22 21:15:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11388570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tilly90/pseuds/tilly90
Summary: Draco Malfoy visits the same place, every year, to reminisce about his seven years at Hogwarts. It is now four years since the Battle of Hogwarts and he has finally accepted the inevitable conclusion of his story. DM/HG AU COMPLETE





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is dedicated to Jade Presley for writing me the most amazing reviews I have ever received and for being such an awesome fan of my one shots. I can't thank her enough for her support, it blew me away and made me feel so appreciated, thank you so much for that. She's brilliant, and I highly recommend checking out her fics!
> 
> Secondly, I'd like to thank Nunley, the Garth to my Wayne, the Jack to my Rose. She needed a fic of almost moments, and so I hope I've delivered. It's rare to find a fangirl as devoted to the ship as you are. Thank you for being just as sane as I am ;D
> 
> This is, admittedly, turning into an Oscar's speech, I can almost hear the music playing, so I'll end this soon... or kick a violin. Either, or.
> 
> Shout out to my Alpha readers, DarkDaisies and kanewolfe, who put up with my incessant need for criticism on all things. You guys are so patient, thank you for putting up with me.
> 
> Lastly, big hugs to my Beta, GidgetMalfoy, who tackled this whilst being an expectant mother to be. I'm so ridiculously thankful, you're a legend.
> 
> Big hugs to everyone who decides to read this, I hope you love/hate it, let me know what you think ;)
> 
> xo

  
_Present Day_

He followed the same path he always had, ignoring the sun's obtrusive glare from his immaculately shined shoes. No, instead he focused on the flickering shadows just a few paces ahead. The shadows cast before him were hypnotic in a way, trying in vain to creep and meld into the light, constantly swaying and shifting in response to the environment. It was a bitter irony for him that the path he was walking was such an apt metaphor for his life.

Still, he persisted on, hands lax and brushing softly at his sides. He often wished he could replay the memories away from this place, but alas, it was as if the hallowed grounds were an extension of his mind. Only here, on this reticent plain, would the deluge of his past remembrances appear to him once more.

As it always did, the recollection started with their first meeting. Their first touch. He welcomed the vision flashing into his thoughts and embraced it, a shadowed ghost of a smile adorning his features.

_**~0~** _

_1st September 1991_

At the time he had been bemused by the stocky boy and confident girl charging through the train's corridors. The girl resolved to complete her task, almost daring the train to encumber her movements with its jostling to and fro. Heaven forbid the train should jolt her from the quest, her stare alone could have dissipated steam.

She moved from compartment to compartment, reluctantly pausing to introduce herself and ask if anyone had seen a toad. It dragged on for some time and he held his curiosity about this unknown girl and boy. A toad seemed to be a rather lackluster choice in his opinion, rather plebeian one might say, or at least that's what his father would have drawled. Still, he followed the duo, sneakily watching their progress and listening in on the mumbled replies from his peers.

He decided, after some time had passed, that the girl had very little regard for the opinion of others. She easily brushed off the quiet murmurs of her character being judged as she turned to walk to the next victims of her inquisition. Even comments wishing not to be placed in the same house as her didn't phase her in the slightest.

He liked that.

The nervous boy, always just behind her lead, stuttered something about searching separately and she agreed with a sharp nod and a quick list of instructions. Draco took this as his chance to approach her, liking the situation better this way. He was young, but he already knew the value of not approaching couples or groups without backup.

The girl walked ahead of him, the corridors now bare except for the two of them. She stopped and bent to tie her shoelace but then quickly spun around to stare directly at him.

"You've been following me," she accused, folding her arms and looking him up and down.

"Yes," he answered, not elaborating, slowly stepping forward to reduce the space. It was quite an intimidating move, deliberate of course.

"Well are you going to help or not? Neville's toad is missing and no one has seen or heard anything. I think someone has taken it, toads aren't silent creatures after all. What's your name anyway? I'm Hermione Granger."

He graced her with a smirk, his hidden approach had initially disgruntled her, but it seemed her appraisal of him had been in his favour.

"Who do you think would have taken the toad? It's not a popular choice for a familiar. I hardly think anyone would actually want one," he answered, keeping his tone cool.

She didn't seem to like that response, frowning and pointing her finger at him.

"That's beside the point, it belongs to Neville and he's already nervous. No one else was helping him."

Draco nodded and kept looking straight at her, "Yes, it's his responsibility. He lost it, so why would you make it your problem?"

She seemed to shuffle a bit at that, smoothing her hands down the sides of her uniform.

"I have already read our school books and he came into my compartment asking for help. I saw no reason to say no." She looked slightly uncomfortable, but still determined to face his questioning. He read between the lines of her reasoning and baited her further.

"So you were sitting by yourself then?"

"Yes?" A question not a statement. "What of it? If you can't stand your own company then what chance would you have with another's?"

Draco stared at her for quite a few moments. The silence was not awkward while he mulled over her words. He decided to award her confidence. He decided that he very much liked this girl.

"Let's go then, you haven't been to the upper compartments yet, follow me." He strode past her and within a beat she was by his side, refusing to yield her leadership in her quest. They made it to the sliding door, dividing the next unexplored section, which they both reached to open at the same time. The train lurched around a bend at that particular moment and Draco quickly grabbed her around the waist to hold her steady. She looked up at his slightly taller frame and quietly thanked him before moving for him to release her.

"Don't move," he quickly stated and slightly increased his grip around her. She looked at him in confusion and saw him tilt his chin, indicating for her to look down. There next to her feet, was the long lost toad, very still, as if waiting for the moment to spring away. They both watched silently for a few seconds and Draco was about to whisper some instruction when Hermione suddenly disappeared from his embrace to scoop up the now struggling amphibian. She looked back to Draco with a dazzling smile on her face and he couldn't help but reciprocate.

"How lucky are we! I better go find Neville now, thank you for helping," she said to him, still smiling at her triumph.

He gave a small smile in return and nodded, watching her start to walk away before he called out to her retreating form.

"My name is Draco, by the way, Draco Malfoy."

She turned slightly and looked at him over her shoulder, still walking in the opposite direction.

"Thanks again, Draco, Draco Malfoy."

It wasn't until she disappeared from view that he checked the pocket in his robes for any mess from the toad.

_**~0~** _

It was months before they had another interaction with each other without the constant shadows of their tentative friendship groups. In reality, they were in similar situations with their 'friends', if one could call them that. It seemed to be pairings of convenience for them both, not quite living up to their expectations of what they really wanted from friendship.

Nevertheless, he was quite entertained at the current point in time, serving detention with the curly haired toad saviour at his side. Hagrid was ahead of them and muttering to himself about something, occasionally prodding parts of the forest with a ridiculous pink umbrella. Draco couldn't quite figure out why he chose the umbrella as a wand receptacle, it was hardly discreet, and the half giant would need a tent over his head to protect him from the rain anyway. The mental image that projected made him huff an amused scoff, which garnered the attention of the girl at his side.

"And what would you be finding so funny at the moment, Malfoy?"

"Oh? We are going to talk to each other now, are we?" He lazily looked across at her.

"You started all that nonsense, I'll go back to ignoring you now," Hermione replied, with an over exaggerated eyeroll.

Draco frowned, "You spoke first! I didn't start anything."

"Ugh! Forget it! I'm not going to ask you why. I get it, ok? I just don't like it."

She looked royally pissed now and upped her pace trying futilely to create some distance between them. He knew what she was really talking about, he just didn't know what to lengthened his strides to catch up to her and deliberately nudged her arm with his elbow before looking straight ahead, the very picture of pure innocence.

She wasn't going to let that slide, and just as he hoped she would, she elbowed him back.

Now it was on.

For the next few minutes they silently attacked each other in their elbow war, growing increasingly daring with how far they would push the other. It was Hermione who took the initiative first to use props and started flicking leaves at his head using a very quiet Leviosa charm. Draco batted the leaves away and deflected them towards her instead, her hair becoming entangled around the greenery being flung at her. His pride demanded he win and to ensure his success he decided to play dirty. His Hawthorn wand moved in rapid jerky motions using small, but blindingly bright Lumos projections to obstruct her vision and put off her aim, easily ensuring he became the victor in their impromptu elbow/leaf war.

Hermione held her hands up in a placating gesture, so, being the gentleman he was, he paused his attack to allow her to concede defeat. What he was not expecting, however, was the rush of limbs, hair and foliage to obscure his vision as the obviously insane girl decided it prudent to ruffle every damn follicle of his hair out of place. She took a step back to admire her handy work and decided a few leaves from her own hair would improve his now much less sleekly styled 'do.

"See? We're the same."

All he could do was gape like a fish, and like her just that little bit more.

_**~0~** _

_Present Day_

He shook his head and smirked with a fondness at the recollection. No matter what happened over the years he would never regret stealing that toad.


	2. Secrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco makes a choice.

_1992_

In their second year, Draco noticed with discreet glances that Hermione held herself differently. The projected air of self confidence was less so, replaced with a girl more sure of her standing in the world without needing it to be voiced. Her hand still shot up into the air at the mere inkling of a question, she still lauded her knowledge and reading material, but it lacked a certain desperation that clouded her the year before. It irked him that such a shift was clearly visible in her whilst his own growth felt tethered by the mighty strings of his father. It was for that reason, he told himself, that he declared a silent pledge to remind her where she stood. He wanted to even the playing field, as it were, and have the balance restored. He didn't want to be left behind.

The Chamber of Secrets was a perfect opportunity to exploit a weakness and he clung to it, using her blood status as a focal point. In his mind, it was the largest cloud he could form over her ever reigning glow. He only hoped it would have the impact he desired. He really had very little to work with.

It worked initially, and he was pleased with her reciprocated sneers and witty retorts. It became a game of wills, and as it continued back and forth, he had to admit that the challenge became almost obsessive for them, respectively.

It wasn't until the first petrification of a student that he was hit with a cold hard dose of reality. His words and taunts were given a new tangible threat; the game wasn't a game anymore and he struggled with how to proceed. He found out rather quickly that he didn't prefer the balance being in his favour.

One late afternoon, with the sky already dimming to an inky purple hue, he made his decision and found his way to the library. It was a given she would be there, slumped over some monstrously large tome, and practically inhaling the words to regurgitate at some later point.

He found her, just as he'd pictured, jammed into the corner at the back of the room, with more texts than desk visible, and one leg tucked under her as she read.

He did love being right.

Snaking his way past the towering shelves, he gracefully dropped into the spare seat opposite her and quickly effected an air of nonchalance as he grabbed a tome and started flicking through the crisply aged pages.

As she was often known to do, it took her some time to realise she was no longer alone and it took a glance at her notes before she realised there was a blonde interruption too close to her personal space.

She eyed him up and quickly shut the book with an exaggerated slam to let him know she was aware and obviously displeased at his intrusion.

"You should go to the hospital wing," she said blandly, not bothering to show her true annoyance just yet.

He smirked already knowing what she was alluding to. "No _Confundus_ here, just thought we needed to check in, can't be safe living with Slytherin's heir so close and all."

"Harry is not the heir of Slytherin! I know your inbred brain must struggle, but do try to keep up!

Draco snorted at that, she must be tired today if she went with that line first. "Inbred to perfection!" he retorted, flicking an invisible speck of dust off his robes. It was always those subtle actions of his that wound her up and he could see her eyes flicker to his hands, watching his careless gesture.

"Ugh! You're disgusting! What do you want? You obviously came here for a reason or are you really that bored with Tweedle Dum and Tweedle Dee?"

"Tweedle what? Granger, are you sure you aren't Confunded? You're speaking gibberish. Better get to the hospital wing, go on, off you go." He waved his hand towards the exit and gave her a look like she had some contagious illness.

Hermione crossed her arms and radiated exasperation at him. "It's a Muggle reference, a very accurate one. I do love that I can insult you with my superior knowledge of both worlds," she unwrapped her arms and started shuffling around with her notes, "I'm rather busy and this is important so could you please just leave and go blind someone else? This sunset is not doing your hair any favours." To emphasize her point she reached a hand up to shield her eyes from the supposed glare from his white blonde hair.

His jaw clenched slightly at that, she knew how he felt about his looks. He was getting off track though so he overlooked it. "What are you working on?" he answered instead.

The shift in his tone from banter to seriousness was not lost on Hermione. "Magical Creatures, why? I know you're not interested in this type of thing."

Draco had looked over the titles of the books she had piled around her as he had sat down. She was close, but she wouldn't make much leeway with the amount she was trying to get through and she needed to know now.

He tilted his head, pondering how to approach this when Hermione decided to prove her point and quickly jumped into lecture mode.

"Lethifolds, for example, are classed as a beast rather than a non-being like Dementors even though they have similar characteristics and are only repelled by a Patronus charm. Care to discuss?"

Her quality impersonation of Professor McGonagall was impressive and he had to reign in a chuckle.

"Well maybe it's because of their preference for tropical climates? I can't see a Dementor floating around a beach. Can you?"

She spluttered and quickly looked over her notes to fact check, a small amount of pink tinting her cheeks. "Yes, well, that still doesn't explain why they would be classified as XXXXX creatures by the Ministry."

"Granger, they are both equally classified as dangerous, that's what's important."

"Yes, but details are important! Information incorrectly labelled, or incorrectly detailed in the first place makes research and understanding harder!" She paused and seemed to remember who exactly it was she was ranting to.

"Like I said before, I know you're not into this. Just go, Malfoy. I don't have the energy to deal with you right now...Ok?"

He stared at her for a few moments and she met his gaze blankly. He knew she was keeping all her frenzied thoughts from being exposed and he admired her for it.

He looked down at the page he had flipped to in the book before him, turning it around and keeping his finger pointed to a specific section. She didn't look down to where he had indicated, instead holding the stare and waiting for him to speak.

"I'm know more about these things than you think, Granger," he voiced quietly, but seriously, and tapped his index finger on the paragraph she needed to see. She looked down to where he was pointing, her eyes growing large, before she jerked her head up to stare at him again.

He didn't say anything else, knowing it was enough, hoping it was anyway, as he quietly left her without looking back. He'd done what he could, right? Right.

_**~0~** _

Hours later Draco replayed their conversation over and over wishing he had said more. His feet felt too heavy as he dragged himself higher and higher away from the dungeons, barely glancing at the sleeping portraits who were rather noisy for non-living, supposedly sleeping paint.

He waited just outside the doors to the hospital wing, covered by the darkness of night and his own bleak thoughts. He didn't really know what he would do once he entered, he just needed to see first and go from there.

One step at a time.

The large magical doors blessedly didn't creak when he entered and it wasn't difficult to spot the drawn curtains around the beds of the petrified students and lonely ghost. What was difficult, however, was trying to force his shaking hand to still so he could see for himself what he was responsible for. Would she be breathing? Were her eyes open? The thought of seeing her corpse-like sent a shudder down his spine, and one micro glance at her perfectly laced shoe was enough to have him reeling back. He took several deep breaths before slumping down to sit on the floor at the foot of her bed, the curtain still dividing them.

He reached up, between the break of the linen walls surrounding her and placed his hand on her ankle. It was a small mercy that she was still warm to the touch.

"I'm sorry," he brokenly choked out, not even trying to ignore the gentle tears rolling down his cheeks.

It was the first time in his life that he had apologised for anything.

_**~0~** _

_Present day_

Draco kicked a small pebble and watched it ricochet away, he could have said so much more to her that day. His apology was meaningless to her and lacking for what he could have voiced. It was years later and still, he hadn't learnt.

There was no redemption in unheard apologies.

 


	3. Notes

_1993_

Granger, at the start of third year, was skittish. That quickly delved into the manic territory as time wore on. The girl was a frazzled mess, never really stopping in her highly strung deployment from class to class and he did notice she was taking _all of them_. He thought a lot about her behaviour and wondered if it had anything to do with boobs. He certainly noticed a rather prominent growth spurt in many of the girls in his year, Granger included. _Especially_ her. Did growing breasts make girls this full on? He couldn't really complain though, after all, it was worth the odd behaviour. Still, there had to be more to it than that, surely.

That was the focus of his time passing musings as he gingerly moved his grievously injured arm from side to side hoping that no permanent damage had occurred during the attack. It was careless of him, he knew that, but a giant chicken-horse had no place being on the school grounds as far as he was concerned. The elder Malfoy patriarch was in agreeance and Draco couldn't wait for swift retribution to rain down around him.

Sometimes having Lucius Malfoy openly on your side was a definite win; it was a rarity, so he lapped up the attention with all he had. Dear old Dad had even put a comforting hand on his shoulder during his diatribe about ethicality at Hogwarts and the need for staff reviewal. Lucius was using the situation for political means, but it was still comforting having him briefly there, not that he'd ever tell his father he relished in his affection, or anyone else for that matter.

The artificial affection in front of him served as a welcome distraction at least, and he started to pick his way through the piles of gifts and well wishes, trying to find something of substance. You'd think after three years of companionship, Crabbe and Goyle would've known his favourite sweets, but no, instead there was a half eaten box of licorice wands, _red_ Licorice wands fouling his heavily laden gift table. His nose wrinkled in disgust. Those were headed straight for the nearest bin.

Blaise's gift was his favourite so far. The Italian git had given him a box of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans, filtered out to only contain every pink coloured confection, and finished off with a rather gaudy looking glittery bow. The note attached wasn't signed but he'd easily recognised his overly dramatic script stating, "rest up, Princess," the 'I' dotted with a heart. He had to chuckle at that, and made a mental note to spend more time with the jokester once he left the hospital wing. Some levity in his life would be very welcome, grunting troll-like guards were severely lacking in conversive skills.

Still, they had their uses.

The rest of the gifts were mediocre at best and as clinical as the room he was contained in. A "Get Well" card here, a vase of flowers there. It admittedly took some hunting under the various assorted blooms to find the good stuff.

And then, there was the intriguing.

Hidden behind the most obscenely enlarged purple Pansy (Three guesses who sent that) was a simple potion phial with a small tag tied around the neck of the bottle with a thin gold cord. Being the Pure-blooded, Dark Arts raised scion of House Malfoy that he was, he wrapped his hand around the blanket, twice, before using it to pick up the interesting gift. The small label contained two statements, each simply written, one marking each side, both as blunt as a butter knife.

_It's a calming draught._

_You're a twat._

His laughter rang out, echoing around the cavernous room. She didn't hate him!

**_~0~_ **

It seemed she did, incidentally, hate him.

A lot.

Her screeched words, the wrath of her flying fist, and his swollen face, we're all candid facets of the simple truth. _The_ Hermione Granger, toad savior, Basilisk survivor, and recently enlarged breast sufferer _truly hated him._

It hurt more than his very obvious smarting cheek, which needed to be rectified immediately. The library was unfortunately quite a distance from the grounds where the assault had taken place, he really could've picked a better location, in hindsight. He used the brisk walk back to catalogue exactly what texts he'd need to erase the evidence as quickly as possible; the greater ramifications of the punch he could deal with later.

He'd shaken off Crabbe and Goyle's shadows with quick instruction to keep their damn mouths shut about the whole incident, not that they'd need a lot of swaying. Their social standing was tied to his, they were lacking in academic learning, but politics they understood well. It was practically ingrained in them from birth, no study necessary.

He still made his way through the halls with his head covered by his hood though; politics aside, having extra assurance was a must when one was intent on one's self preservation.

He allowed himself a very relieved sigh when he finally made his way into the library, quickly descending on the shelves with barely hidden desperation. Healing charms would be added to his repertoire, no matter how long it took him to master them; if he had to remain in solitude for the rest of the day, so be it.

The last thing he wanted right now was to be around anyone, acquaintance or otherwise. A visibly wounded Malfoy was unseemly, and there'd been quite enough of that this year already, thank you very much.

"Stupid chicken," he quietly muttered to himself, almost snapping his quill in his haste to write. He was now onto his third text and so far the results had done little to fade the rapidly forming bruise spreading across the left side of his face.

He took a quick visual break from the words in front of him and a flash of orange caught the corner of his eye as he flicked some more ink across the parchment in an angry scrawl.

His first thought was that some Weasley spawn was crawling around on the floor, it would be fitting behaviour for one of them after all. He slyly glanced towards the colourful flash again and was surprised to find a rather large mass of it, possibly too large to belong to a Weasley head, but he couldn't be sure of that.

The thing moved towards him and he had to admit he was briefly panicked that yet another creature was going to attack him, this time without any provocation on his part. Provocation or no, he would be damned if he'd let one more being, creature or entity abuse his person today. That was _his_ firmly established role to play in the damn castle.

The bizarre mass jumped and landed right in front of him on the desk, tilting it's head to appraise him. It didn't appear to be hostile so he met its gaze somewhat apprehensively before recognition dawned on him.

"Come to finish me off for your Mistress have you, beasty?" he asked quietly, not covering the resignation in his tone.

The creature sniffed at him and then tilted it's neck offering him a package of some sort.

He narrowed his eyes and stared down at the offering debating his next move. Granger's beast twitched and shifted, what he supposed was its face, to an area just past his shoulder before stilling again and giving him some time to react. With the entire situation as odd as the being itself, he decided to just take the package so the thing would leave. He couldn't, in sound mind, trust something that he couldn't classify to a species.

He quickly untied the string and in an instant the beast jumped off the desk and sauntered away. It was an ugly thing but it certainly had haughty down pat. He had to grudgingly respect it for that.

The lone package was plain and wrapped with what appeared to be standard parchment. He furrowed his brow and inspected it with curiosity, weighing it in his palm for a few moments before carefully unwrapping it. Inside was a small glass jar filled with some viscous grey paste that slowly moved to creep along the sides of the container as he tilted it.

He lifted the jar off the butterflied parchment and placed it to the side; he knew what it contained and a small fluttering of hope ignited in his chest.

His gaze shifted back to the parchment, revealing a small note in the very center.

_You're still a twat._

He'd never been so happy to be insulted in his life. The small flicker of hope bloomed and he quickly looked around, scanning the library for any hint that she was there.

The tables around him were still bare of student life and silence reigned. It made it easy to glimpse the feminine hand curled around a bookshelf and spot the one eye trained on him, even from a distance. The bushy headed, browned eyed assailant met his gaze and winked quickly before vanishing before he could blink. It all happened so fast he had to wonder if it was a figment of his imagination.

He liked to believe that it wasn't.

**_~0~_ **

_Present day_

Draco pulled the note from his pocket, the parchment now so soft and almost cotton-like from the many hours spent unfolding it over the years.

"Still true as ever, Granger," he whispered, delicately brushing his fingertips over the faded script.

He carried it with him always, the insulting, yet endearing words always close to his heart.


	4. See you around

_1994 Quidditch World Cup_

Quidditch was easily a great love of his life. The game would always set his heart racing, playing or not, enthralling him with the fast paced manoeuvres and sly tactics utilised by both sides. The World Cup almost made him giddy with anticipation, getting to experience first hand the crème de la crème of the sporting elite.

His absolute devotion to the game was almost enough to excuse his current predicament. The key word there being almost; for what fourteen-year-old man wished to be sitting sandwiched between his two overbearing parents? They weren't even watching the blasted game, too busy rubbing shoulders with the other social butterflies in the Minister's highly selective private box.

What compounded matters further was the unfortunate placement of the pride of Gryffindors currently seated in front of him. The whole rowdy lot of them were too close, too loud, and too green, making the pile of red mounted to their heads bloody glow in the most distracting way. He could practically smell the poverty leaching from their ridiculous, tatty, second rate clothes. Disgusting.

How anyone could smile and revel with gaiety whilst looking that bad was beyond him.

How Hermione Granger could be happily joining in was also perplexing.

She was sitting next to 'The Chosen Dunce', berating him for focussing on his Omnioculars rather than watching the game live. It made perfect sense to him that Potter wouldn't be able to keep up, even through four lenses he couldn't keep his attention on the lightening speed of national level Quidditch. How the fuck he actually _played_ the game didn't bear any more analysis. It'd been years, he still had nothing to answer that anomaly.

He had to forcibly draw his thoughts away from a well versed Potter rant and instead focussed back on Granger. An anomaly he had indeed pondered for years with admittedly more insight.

He watched her animatedly discussing things to a half attentive Potter. It didn't even matter what she was saying, the way her eyes lit up and the subtle changes to her expression were endearing. It annoyed him that Potter's responses to her were lacking. He nodded absentmindedly every now and then and continued fiddling with the dials of the Omnioculars instead. Would it kill the bastard to appreciate anything this girl did for him? He knew she had only a slight interest in Quidditch, yet here she was trying to engage with her so called 'best friend' and getting nothing back.

Potter, in his opinion, was a dick.

When he had her attention he appreciated it for what it was. Hermione Granger wasn't the type of girl you brushed off. She glanced back at him every now and then and the timing seemed perfect, for he caught her gaze every time. It became a game, like usual, and he was ridiculously comforted by how some things just didn't change.

Once again, the Irish scored and the crowd leaped to its feet, including the ginger army in front of him and their hangers on. He saw a window and jerked his arm forward, quickly tugging at her hair, just to make it clear that he'd won this round.

She didn't look back at him but he definitely saw the smirk imprinted on her face. He knew it was just for him.

_**~0~** _

The chaos in the camping grounds had already started when he found a chance to speak to her. As luck would have it, Potter was wandless and stuck drooling over Veela with his ginger growth. Sometimes, just sometimes, fate was kind to him.

It was Granger who approached him first.

"You seem awfully relaxed there Malfoy, not swayed by the Veela charms, too? Hmm?"

"Can't say that bestiality is my thing, Granger," he scoffed, still leaning heavily against the tree. "And why are you so calm yourself? You know what they're after out there, I'd be keeping that bushy head down if I was you."

"Huh, I didn't think about the beast aspect, interesting," her forehead creased just slightly before continuing, "We're pretty deep in the woods here, Malfoy, plus I know what I'm doing...you're parents aren't out there are they?"

"No, they're busy chatting with their alibi's, give them some credit there bookworm." He smirked trying to hide his discomfort, stupid really, as he knew she'd see through it.

She gave a bit of chuckle but stared at him in that analytical way that made him feel transparent.

"Of course, always the Malfoy way," she conceded, "What about you though? The way I see it you are either doing one of two things. Hiding in plain sight, lots of witnesses to see you here, not being involved. Or, your blatant complacency by still being here could be interpreted as a show of passive support. So which is it?"

He couldn't meet her eyes.

"How about you try a third option there, Granger? Maybe It's something else entirely."

"Maybe," she said quietly, looking back over his head as shouts and more spell fire could be heard.

"Look, follow that path deeper into the woods, find the other gingers, you'll be able to spot them easily I should think. Just get out of here, yeah?"

They held gazes and he straightened himself up to his full height, tilting his chin to the path ahead.

"I know you've removed your trace from your wand already, just use a Lumos, grab the gits and get going. I'm leaving now too." He brushed some invisible lint from his robes, a gesture he felt was quite official as a symbol of importance.

The slight tilt to her lips showed she was still amused by it, making it somewhat less effective.

"How do you know I've already removed the trace?" she asked, tilting her head at him in that annoyingly adorable way.

"It's what I've done, and I know for a fact that you read that book last year."

She nodded. "It's what we do isn't it? Try to keep ahead of each other?"

"Something like that."

"Yeah, something like that." He heard a slight fondness in her tone and returned her apologetic smile.

Of course he watched her progress until she'd left, after a minor struggle to rescue her dopey eyed friends. He chose not to look back towards the chaos before summoning his house elf and going home. He had thoroughly convinced himself he wasn't involved. Yet.

_**~0~** _

The Slytherins around him were statue like in anticipation, watching the silent maze for any sign that the Portkey would return.

He was watching Granger, waiting for her reaction to Potter's death.

He'd known for months how this was going to play out after his father finally relented and filled him in on what was really happening during this farce of a Triwizard Tournament.

The ferret incident was the catalyst. He'd demanded his father intervene and get rid of the insane ex-Auror for the attack. He was honestly shocked and more than a little insulted when his father had instructed him to let it go and steer clear of the teacher in the future instead. It took quite a lot of tantrum-ing before he was told of the Death Eater in disguise. After that he heeded his father's words and kept an unusually low profile for the remainder of the games.

Now he wasn't sure if he should've done more with the information he had, after seeing the corpse of Cedric Diggory and a battered Harry Potter suddenly appear at the entrance of the maze.

A few seventh years behind him were muttering to one another and quickly rose to head back to the castle. The other houses mostly screamed and gasped in horror as teachers rushed to aid the hysterical boy next to the lifeless one on the ground.

"Shit," Greg whispered next to him, "What should we do now, Drake?"

"Nothing. Go back to the castle, wait for news," he answered in a sharp voice.

"But do you think he still-"

"Not here you idiot! Go, I'll be there soon." He rose quickly and started heading for the stairs of the stands.

It wasn't the best time for this, but he would physically grab her if he had to. The fake Moody was surely about to be exposed and he didn't want her in the crossfire when she inevitably went to Potter's aid.

He saw her running ahead with the Weasel and disillusioned himself before catching up. They slowed to a jog and eventually a fast paced walk as they meandered through the castle, heading towards the upper levels. He could hear them discussing something about a map and knew they were more than likely making their way to Gryffindor tower. Throwing caution to the wind, he placed his palm on her lower back and whispered in her ear, "I need to talk to you, now, it's important."

Her steps faltered for a second, but she quickly corrected herself and discreetly shook her head, obviously trying to dismiss him.

He didn't move his hand from her back as he kept up the pace beside her.

"Granger," he angrily whispered, "Now! Or I'll Imperio you if I have to!"

He saw the way her jaw clenched as she cut off the Weasel's ramblings. "Ron, go get the map, I need to go to the bathroom, I'll meet you outside the entrance to the common room."

Weasley spluttered slightly, but looked too uncomfortable to question her timing. He thankfully didn't argue and gave her a quick nod before running ahead.

She waited till he rounded the corner and then turned to where she had guessed his head was.

"You have two minutes," she practically spat at him, dragging him into a nearby classroom and then slamming the door.

He dropped the glamour.

"Granger, the Dark Lord is back."

Silence engulfed the dark room and she said nothing for quite a few moments. The moonlight that beamed across the room from the windows easily showed her face though. It seemed she didn't know what to say next.

"Potter was supposed to die, I don't know how he made it out and why the bloody fuck Diggory was there, too, although if I had to guess they touched the Portkeyed Cup at the same time," he stated in a drawl. He hadn't meant to be that blunt, but it seemed the adrenaline rush hadn't quite dissipated yet.

She continued to stare at him, this time in disbelief.

"You knew about this? You knew and you didn't say anything?"

"What was I supposed to do? It wouldn't have changed anything!" He ran his hand over his face and looked over his shoulder before sitting on a desk and crossing his arms.

"Of course it could have changed everything! Why the hell didn't you go to Dumbledore? He could've-"

"Don't be daft! Of course he knew about it! Use your head, Granger! This all fits in perfectly with his plans for "the greater good". You can't stand there and honestly tell me that he doesn't know what happens in this castle every second. There are portraits on every damn surface of these walls, all reporting back to him. Plus ghosts. Plus that constant Legilimency when you sit in his presence eating the spiked Sherbet-fucking-Lemons on his desk. That famous "twinkle" in his eye is him raping your mind! The Death Eater who is posing as Mad Eye Moody is chugging Polyjuice constantly. Not to mention the fact that him and Dumbledore are very old friends and allies. As if he wouldn't have noticed the differences."

She listened to his rant with wide eyes and then crossed the floor to sit on the desk next to him with slumped shoulders.

"Firstly, what is this about the Sherbet Lemons? And Secondly, Moody's a fake? He just dragged Harry off! What's he going to do to him? I want to discuss this further but I have to go, he could do anything to Harry!" She practically shouted, that Gryffindor look of 'hero-rescue-time' firmly imprinted on her face.

"Calm down, Granger, Dumbledore followed him, the boy saviour will be rescued and Moody is probably being exposed right now. Leave it for the higher ups to deal with for once. And Snape warned us all in first year about the potion he infuses the sweets on his desk with, it lowers inhibitions enough that you don't notice the mind reading unless you're an Occlumens."

"Well _fuck_!" she shouted.

"Fuck indeed." He chuckled, but quickly grew sober again.

"What else do you know? What's going to happen now? Is he going to ambush the school?" She said in a rush, her leg jittering and she furiously tapped her foot on the ground.

"Just slow down a bit yeah?" He reached over and held her thigh down, the bouncing was distracting him.

"As far as I know, the plan was to send a dead Potter back with the Portkey, an attack won't happen on Hogwarts until the Ministry is taken. It will happen, just not yet."

She had been staring at his hand on her thigh as he said this, deep in thought. He wondered if she was actually aware of his grip now on her for comfort more than anything else.

"Draco, why are you being so open about all this? Cedric was just murdered, Voldemort is back, and you are talking to me in a vacant classroom. What's your play here? I'm understanding everyone else's role right now but I don't get what you're doing?" Her eyes drifted from his hand to look him in the eye, trying to read his face for any clue about his motivations.

"Honestly? Would you believe what I said even if I told you the truth?"

"I don't know, I don't think you even know what you're doing yet. Hell, at this point I'm actually surprised you didn't jump in the lake to rescue me yourself when I was down there. You seem to always have my back in some way or another, it confuses me."

He smirked and then raised his eyebrow. "Who do you think gave Krum the shark idea?"

Her mouth opened in a perfect imitation of a gaping fish before snapping shut. She prodded a finger quite roughly into his chest.

"See? This is what I'm talking about! Gods you're annoying! I don't get you!"

"Well this," his finger gestured back and forth between them, "is not just me. What about the things you have done for me? I don't like being in someone's debt, Granger, it's as simple as that."

"Simple as that my arse! Look, I have to go, Malfoy, you've killed enough time with this pow wow as it is." She stood to leave and he let his hand gently caress her thigh as it dropped away. She definitely noticed but didn't comment on it.

"I still don't get you." She stood directly in front of him, looking down into his eyes, waiting for something.

He reached up slowly and took a strand of hair from beside her face, gently tucking it behind her ear before standing, too.

"Go do your thing, Granger. I'll see you around," he sighed resignedly. Just keep walking, he chanted in his head, just get to the damned door.

"Will you though?" she asked his retreating back.

"Yeah, I will."

**_~0~_ **


	5. King of the world

_Present Day_

Looking back, it was undoubtedly his arrogance that kept him alive. It was beautiful really, how that faux confidence was ingrained to the point where he thought himself more capable than what he really was. It was at its peak in his fifth year of Hogwarts, when his self proclaimed title of 'Prince of Slytherin' became official under Umbridge's tutelage. Oh, he knew he was being used, but he was also using the situation for his own means, too. It was what he was good at, and that shiny little badge proclaiming him the leader of the Inquisitorial Squad gave him the highest ranking among the student body. The castle was his, as far as he was concerned, and he relished the authority he yielded.

At the time, he had starting thinking more and more about his potential and he convinced himself that he could stay on top. Becoming a Death Eater didn't incite the fear it once did. He was a Malfoy, and he was respected and feared. The only way to go was up. He could definitely handle it, control it, and thrive when the time drew closer for him to be initiated. Just one more year and he really would be on top of the world.

Youth was glorious in its naivety.

He remembered the intoxicating feeling of his own righteousness. So firmly believing in his own intelligence.

Pride, above all else, was his strength, and it was a beautiful thing to behold.

It was everything, until it was nothing, when the world inevitably fell apart.

**_~0~_ **

_1995_

He could understand why she was going this route. It was natural, after all, for resistance to arise in the face of oppression.

He fundamentally understood all that, it was the lack of preemptive security that had him doubting the longevity of this venture. It was Gryffindor rashness, he decided, but still, after their previous experiences he honestly expected more at this point. Especially from Granger.

He continued jotting down the names of the little congregation inside the Hog's Head whilst leaning against the wall outside, next to the cracked window. It was incredibly easy, he hadn't even needed to employ his more stealthy tactics to get what he needed. His motto this year was definitely _Knowledge is Wealth_. However, he still firmly believed in wealth being wealth, too. His immaculately dressed form in the alley next to the pub attested to that.

It was an interesting bunch, he mused as he finalised the names on the list, charmed, of course, to be only visible to his gaze. He had to hope that Granger had at least thought of something similar on her own parchment. Maybe it was something to discuss with her in the future, he thought as he made his way back to his group.

That evening, whilst lounging on his decadent silk sheets in bed, he mapped out a strategy. The following week, he implemented it.

He had summoned Crabbe and Goyle early from dinner, knowing that the common room would be empty. It was also amusing for him to cut their meal time short; he did so love to exert his control over them in the pettiest of ways.

Goyle kept glancing at him, shifting nervously and waiting for the dramatic silence to end. Draco did love a long build up, so he intentionally kept working on his drawing, which was coming along nicely, he thought. Even amongst the dim greenish glow from the lake as his source of light, he knew it was good. Of course it was.

Crabbe was mostly staring at the marine life, probably wondering what was edible. A lovely image of Crabbe gnawing on a tentacle of some sort popped into his head, a drawing that would definitely happen later, but now, to business.

"Goyle, Crabbe, tomorrow you will collect a hair sample from two Hufflepuff's. Anyone from Second year above will suffice. I need you to tail Chang and Edgecombe for a while, after that, I'll give you more names to follow," he lazily intoned, not bothering to glance up from his sketching.

"Ah, yeah, alright, but for how long? Do you mean follow them all day?" Goyle asked, scrunching his overly large eyebrows together.

"Obviously not," Draco scoffed, "Just after dark. I need to know their movements around the castle, especially who they interact with from the other houses."

Crabbe grunted and nodded, obedient as ever.

"Is this for a Potter thing, Draco? Why don't we just follow him?"

Draco paused and looked up quickly. That was rather bloody insightful for Greg, he'd give him that.

"That's my business, Goyle, but all in good time. I think Hufflepuff girls would work the best, don't you?" He smirked and started to pack away his work, finally perfected. "I'll give you the vials of Polyjuice tomorrow, I'm off to the Owlry." He stood and started to walk away, the shorter the conversation with those two, the better.

"Wait!", Crabbe called out, "that's it? I missed dinner just for that?" He sounded like a whiney five-year-old, back chatting to his father.

Draco thought he needed to work on his petulance, that really was pitiful.

He turned slightly and called out over his shoulder, "Oh, and wear red ribbons, will you? I'll be able to check up on your work more easily that way."

Their murmurings of assent were music to his ears as he left. Now to play the other side of the proverbial coin.

_**~0~** _

The Owlery was a cesspool of filth, as per usual, but needs must, so he quietly awaited his owl's arrival from the higher rungs of the tower's ceiling. He did appreciate that his owl had the intelligence to avoid the riff raff on the lower levels. A worthy Malfoy creature indeed.

Unknown, to but a select few, he had two owls that did his bidding. His majestic Eagle Owl, which was always for public display, made it clearly known who its master was, usually drawing attention with its lavish gifts delivered in the Great Hall for maximum effect. His nondescript barn owl was for his more subtle correspondence, and was perfect for the current job at hand; contacting Granger.

He looked over the note once more, eying it with amusement.

_Dear Savior of toads,_

_I believe a critique of my illustration, pictured below, is in order. I find it rather INNformative, don't you?_

_Regards,_

_Bad Faith._

Below the script was a drawing of a large pig, drinking a Butterbeer surrounded by little piglets in a derelict looking pub scene. The detail was exquisite and he'd happily spent hours perfecting it.

As he tied the note to the owl's leg he pondered the many different replies he could receive in response.

Let the games begin.

**_~0~_ **

The next day he received his reply:

_**Dear Bad Faith,** _

_**Speaking of toads.** _

_**Regards, Roaring Lion.** _

The hastily written note included a crudely drawn Umbridge with a ferret stole draped around her neck.

He immediately stuck it into his copy of 'Defensive Margical Theory', covering the image of Wilbert Slinkhard on the inside, much to the image's chagrin. It made his lessons, from then on, much more palatable, an evil grin etched on his face as he opened the book often confusing his classmates around him, as it was invisible to everyone else.

He waited and replied a few days later.

_Roaring Lion? Much better._

_I do appreciate how noose like that ferret appears, rather fitting, don't you think?_

_You lose points, overall, for execution._

_The shading, what happened? Your skills are lacking._

_Rectify immediately._

_Bad Faith._

_**~0~** _

Her next reply was as equally entertaining as the first.

_**Speaking of rectifying immediately, I can almost taste the smug in the air when you are in proximity. For the love of Merlin, tone it down!** _

_**You are one Educational Decree away from being given a kitty collar and being made Umbridge's new favourite pet.** _

_**Regards,** _

_**bemused,** _

_**but still, Roaring Lion.** _

_**~0~** _

_Pets you say? Why, I already have a couple of those myself, Roaring Lion, maybe you could babysit them for me hmm?_

_Another drawing was included, this time showing what was clearly, Crabbe and Goyle, dressed in skin tight Hufflepuff girls' uniforms with red bows in their hair._

_I do believe they like to play on the 7th floor. There's all kinds of fun happening there these days._

_Constant vigilance, little lion, constant vigilance._

**_~0~_ **

_**Adorable! I will happily babysit them from now on.** _

_**I've included a new picture for you, I believe painting may be my forte.** _

_**You still need to work on that smug, although I must admit it's growing on me.** _

_**Regards to you, not-so-bad-faith** _

_**Roaring Lion x** _

From then on, Crabbe and Goyle had a lot more difficulty in their task, trailing members of Granger's little group. Umbridge was not amused, but he certainly was.

Draco felt it was a success all 'round as he admired his new watercolour painting of a white ferret wrapped in a Gryffindor scarf. It was an unspoken thank you, but he heard it nonetheless.

**_~0~_ **

If someone had told him, at the beginning of the year, that he would be lounging around an empty classroom admiring Weasley administered chaos, he would've slapped them for foolishness.

As it was, he was in a blissfully relaxed state, hands behind his head, feet propped up on a desk, as he looked through an open window admiring the glittery bursts randomly floating by.

Hogwarts was in a state of multicoloured uproar, and it was one of the best things he had ever seen.

Every level of the castle was subjected to a prank. Some students were sporting bright orange antlers from a mist that had detonated in a full, second year Charms class. Others, in the halls, had been skating gleefully over rainbow ice, not even caring as their bodies turned the same colours on impact with the ground.

His favourite scene so far had been the corridor completely covered in slime that giggled and yelled insults if you were unfortunate enough to pass through it.

Filch was crying in the corner on that level.

Draco had carefully avoided being caught so far, which was why he was happily hiding in an as yet, unaffected classroom. The scale of it all was deeply impressive, the twins having helpers to administer simultaneous attacks in a group scheme.

The planning must have taken months, he mused, and then chuckled as a flyaway arse-shaped rocket zoomed into the room.

Genius, pure genius.

He was going to need a pensieve to replay Umbridge's screeching later. Her face was as fushia as her skirt as she ran screaming through the castle, trying to band together a rather reluctant staff to obtain some order. He even saw Professor Flitwick pocketing some undetonated flower bombs, which mysteriously went off in a courtyard a few moments later. The woman didn't stand a chance with this multi-leveled anarchy.

Hiding was safe, but he did feel the overwhelming curiosity to explore some more, so he left his comfy spot and took a peek through the door to make sure the coast was clear.

He went to step through when he saw one Hermione Granger entering the deserted corridor wearing some sort of wheeled device for shoes, smoothly gliding along.

He leaned against the door jam and crossed his arms, _someone_ was obviously feeling rebellious today.

_That's my girl_ he thought as he watched her gingerly place a small orange box on the ground, and remove her wand. She muttered an incantation and a puddle started to rapidly form from its contents, dissolving the box as it went. It pulsed and spewed forth a geyser of water and mud, coating the floor with the mess, aquatic plants, and water lilies springing up as it grew. She quickly strolled backwards, towards his direction and he smirked as she drew closer reaching out to grab her around the waist before she passed him.

Her adorable little yelp was hilarious and he chuckled, but she panicked when she turned in his grip and speedily rolled to an alcove, dragging him along and warding the small space before the tide reached them.

He watched as the swamp rose to just past knee level, outside the invisible barrier, awe on his face as Granger gasped for breath beside him.

"You idiot, Malfoy! Now we're stuck here! I can't rollerblade out through that!" She angrily admonished him, hands on hips and indignance etched on every feature.

"So that's what those things are, did the twins invent them, too?" he asked, peering down at the wheeled shoes she had reached down to take off. Small clicks sounded as the straps sprung free and echoed around the small space.

"No, these are a _Muggle_ invention," she announced, deliberately emphasising the 'Muggle' with exaggerated sweetness, "They are just for fun and I've been dying to use them in the halls! You've thwarted my quick getaway, Ferret Boy, now we're trapped." He noticed the fondness in her tone as she spoke the nickname. He definitely also took notice of her copy cat smirk.

"Granger, it's Ferret _Man_ ," he dragged out with an eyeroll, "And secondly, you're a witch! Just give it an Evanesco and it'll disappear." He raised his wand and aimed it at the water but she quickly jumped on him and flung his wand arm down.

"No! It's a permanent swamp! It'll take months to get rid of it, only the boys know the counter charm. Just leave it, I had _one_ job, Malfoy, one! The swamp stays," she commanded, still clinging to him and trying to stifle a chuckle at her own bossiness.

And just like that, the atmosphere changed when she became just as aware of their proximity as he did.

He slowly, ever so slowly, dragged his other hand from his side to the contour of her thigh, inching upwards and relishing the slow incline. He then, let his hand come to rest on her hip and squeezed gently as he leaned forward, taking care to brush his lips across her jaw before whispering in her ear.

"You can win this one, but I think I'll need reimbursement for my noble act." He finished, with a boyish grin, and nudged his nose against hers, delighted by her wide smile as her hands twined around his neck.

She swayed forwards towards him, and he felt a rush euphoria as she raised up to stand on her toes, her gaze darting to his lips.

And then a giant raspberry was assaulting his ear, an inelegant shout was leaving his mouth, and his forehead was painfully smacking into Granger's.

It all went insurmountably worse, when Peeves started making obscene kissing noises just centimeters from their faces.

"Ooo, what do we have here? Sneaky, sneaky pond scummy adventures!" The mad bugger was wide eyed and rapidly clapping his pearly hands in glee. He then broke out into song, assaulting their ears further.

"Ohh Bushy and Blondy

sittin' in a tree

K-I-S-S-I-N-G

first comes love

of course, of course

but we all know

it's going to

end in divorce!"

He ended with a deranged cackle and promptly threw some sort of goo in their direction, which they luckily dodged. He had the good sense to leave, but Draco was absolutely having words with the Bloody Baron later. Peeves was going to hurt.

A lot.

Granger was in the midst of hysterical laughter and wiped some tears from the corners of her eyes. He gave her some moments to calm down and she eventually looked to him again, her hysteria still ghosting her face.

"I don't know if he was being a realist or an arsehole," she questioned him, tilting her head in appraisal.

"Arsehole," he gritted out between clenched teeth, "definitely an arsehole."

Hermione chuckled and leant her forehead against his chest, giving his biceps a quick squeeze before slowly moving away, dropping the ward and wading out through the pond.

The water rushed into the alcove and promptly soaked his legs in muck. Draco let his head drop back against the stone wall, heaving a drawn out breath through his nose.

Cock blocked by a poltergeist, fantastic.

**_~0~_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2 chapters to go! I'd love to know your thoughts :)


	6. Intent

_Hogwarts Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom 1996_

Draco knew that Snape would emulate the bleak Potion's class in his new arena. The classroom was dimly lit with flickering candlelight, the windows shrouded in deep velvet drapes. How he managed to bring the dampness from the dungeons was beyond him, but it was there, and it set everyone on edge, or was it anticipation?

Either way, the dramatic entry, with the signature rippling cloak, had the students sitting up straighter, their murmurings and inane chatter instantly ceasing.

Draco looked at Professor Snape with unveiled disdain and thought, _let the foolish wand waving commence, you sanctimonious bastard!_ He had never regretted taking this class more, but then, that was the pattern of his life now, wasn't it?

He slumped further down into his seat and started counting the feathered segments along his quill. Quiet malcontent. He supposed he could work with that, for the opening monologue of this farce at least.

Snape used his standard drawn out silence, and icy glare, as he drifted around like the Dementor he was. It was more than Draco thought was necessary, and Longbottom's anxiety was almost tangible before he finally addressed the class.

"Today we will be having a discussion about what criteria specifies magic as Light versus Dark, and whether the Unforgivable Curses should truly be deemed so - "

It was then that Potter felt the need to loudly scoff and rudely interrupt Snape. Draco couldn't even be bothered to roll his eyes, it was the same bullshit as usual.

He was over it.

"Ah yes, Mr Potter, resident expert on all matters evil. You _obviously_ , have something you wish to say. However, as you are merely a student, mediocre at best, you will remain silent until I ask for discussion to commence," he lazily proclaimed, as if he was discussing the weather, " twenty points from Gryffindor."

The Gryffindor students simultaneously blustered, and Potter's scowl deepened, as if he thought that would have some lasting effect on the Professor.

It didn't.

It never did.

Draco moved on from the quill and started counting the stones in the walls.

"What you will come to realise," Snape continued," is that your childish notions of segmenting and labelling your world into specific boxes of discourse, is just that, childish. Magic, at its core, is fluid. What you perceive to be an intonation, producing that which is deemed light or dark, is driven not by the magic itself, but your intent."

"Let us discuss the rudimentary. A _Wingardium Leviosa_ , for example, is deemed a simple charm, taught in your first year, and easily produced," Snape carelessly flicked his wand, illustrating his point with a water filled goblet.

"My intent, in this case, was to simply raise the goblet you see before you, into a state of suspension. Now, I have complete control over the object, it is at the mercy of my will and most importantly, my _intent_." Snape rose the goblet higher and the class watched in fascination as it drifted to a spider web strung between the apex of the visible wooden beam of the ceiling. The goblet drew closer and trapped the spider dangling precariously from the web. Snape held it steady for a few moments before lowering it once more, the room silent and staring at the now deceased spider floating along the surface of the water within.

"I could use this _simple_ charm to lift a person into flame, I could use this simple charm to hover knives above your head while you slept," his gaze swept across the room making his words seem pointedly more sinister.

"And yet, this charm is deemed light. It is not Unforgivable, nor will you find it described in what some may deem dark literature. But, as I have just established, it could easily be used to maim, torture and kill. The same could be said for any other charm. A _Diffindo_ could be used to decapitate or sever limbs, a correctly placed _Lumos_ could blind a victim. A healing charm could even be used to encase poison inside an open wound." Draco looked at Crabbe next to him and saw him eagerly jotting down notes. _Merlin_ , Snape was actually giving him _ideas_. He had to suppress a shudder.

Granger interrupted the resounding silence to raise her hand.

"But, what of the curses that are specifically designed to be used for nefarious purposes," she asked in a clinical matter, "In what way could something such as the _Cruciatus_ be seen as light? It's impossible."

"Incorrect," Snape parried, to many gasps from the majority of the room, "The _Cruciatus_ , has the potential to injure, and is more often than not, used for torture purposes. However, the curse itself can have healing applications, too," he lectured back, looking down at Granger's face and holding her rapt attention.

"It is the most effective way to return memories from those _Obliviated_ as well as having the power to keep one alive when suffering a hyperthermic state by stimulating the nerve endings. Whilst there are other charms that could also achieve this, the _Cruciatus_ is the most effective method. The same is true for temporary paralysis, and it can also be used to break free of a Petrificus Totalis." He swept past Granger and continued his roaming between the narrow valleys of the desks, giving the students a moment to think over his words.

"This is why you must question that which you perceive to be black and white. An Avada could be an act of mercy, an Imperius could be used to hinder, and again, save in certain contexts. What it all surmounts to is your intent, what method you use to protect from harm is justifiable, is it not?"

Draco was no longer ignoring Snape's words. It was so easy for him to stand there and say all this, but what use was it when your choices were limited to bad or worse? He had tried to close off his mind from over analysing his situation thus far, but now his thoughts were flooded with _what_ _ifs_?

His hands became clammy and sweat beaded upon his brow, his pale complexion turning ashen as the rising panic built.

Granger turned to face him and noticed what no one else did. She mouthed, "Are you alright?" Concern evident on her features as her eyes took in his mounting panic, while the rest of the class started writing the discussion questions Snape called out.

He had a choice right now, at least, so he chose to ignore her.

**_~0~_ **

Cornering Madam Rosmerta at The Three Broomsticks was simple enough. The storeroom he had found stank of mildew and that deeply woody aroma of old spilled wine. The cellar was situated underneath the bar with no windows or exit points, except for the main entry, making it the perfect access point for him to reach her. It was also fittingly perfect for his task, with the dungeon like vibes it possessed.

It had only been a few hours of waiting and now the glassy eyed woman stood before him at wand point.

He stared at her features and noted that friendliness she exuded was ingrained into her skin. Even under his Imperius, the laugh lines still remained around her eyes, each wrinkle a permanent reminder that this woman had laughed and been happy over time.

"Tell me to stop," he commanded, searching her blank eyes for something, _anything_ , to hold him back.

"Stop," she blankly replied.

"No, say it again."

"Stop," she repeated, still no inflection of tone in her voice.

"No!" his voice grew louder, his frustration seeping out, "Say it like you _mean_ it. Say stop! Do it!"

"Stop," she said quietly, but the effect on him didn't work, there was _nothing_ in her eyes to make him believe.

He began to pace back and forth in a tight line, resorting to repeating the steps he had planned over and over again to calm down.

_Give her the coin._

_Give her the necklace._

_Give her the poison to put in the mead._

A first resort and a backup, a method of communication. It would work. This was careful.

His hands would be clean.

He stopped pacing, took a deep breath, and released it slowly.

"Take this coin," he calmly stated, pulling it from his pocket, "You will contact me through this, and I will contact you with strict instructions that you will follow and obey. You will not indicate to anyone in anyway that you are under the Imperius, and you will not think about any task I have set you once it has been completed."

Madam Rosmerta raised her hand and took the charmed Galleon, placing it into the pocket of her apron.

He watched her closely and saw how fluid the movement was, no sign of any resistance whatsoever.

He reached back into his robes and pulled out the vial of poison next, his hand shaking as it did so.

Above the room a conversation drifted down the stairs, halting everything.

_"Ron, what are you staring at?"_

_"Nothing!"_

_"I expect 'nothing's' in the back getting more Firewhiskey."_

He could hear the annoyance in Hermione's tone and her impatience, while Weasley was obviously trying to cop an eyeful of Rosmerta.

Who was still just blankly staring at Draco with those cold, lifeless eyes.

"Tell me to stop," he said again, the pleading evident now in every syllable.

"Stop," she replied.

He couldn't take it anymore.

"Aren't you scared? Aren't you afraid? I could do _anything_! I have you completely under my con...control," he had tried to sound threatening, but his breathing become erratic. The anxiety was almost crushing him and the cellar felt smaller and smaller with each passing moment.

He could wait, he needed to be calm to do this or the Imperius could be faulty. Yes, he could delay this, just for a few days. Granger and her cronies were too close, there were too many people in the bar. The snow was piling up outside, it could all be detrimental to his plans. Another day would be better, this could still work.

He moved his shaking arm, to place the poison back in his pocket, but paused and looked back at that damned blank face again.

"Tell me, are you afraid? Are you scared of me?" He slowly asked.

"No," she stated plainly.

"Why?" There was still nothing there, she was a living, breathing statue, nothing more.

"I am not scared of you, I pity you."

He looked into her eyes and stared and stared.

Ten minutes later he left The Three Broomsticks. His pockets empty.

**_~0~_ **

Draco quietly watched as Madam Pomfrey changed the bandages crisscrossed along his torso, the linen seeping into the salve on his nearly healed wounds.

He had spent three days in the hospital wing and now he was finally being released.

With the corridors empty and most students still in the Great Hall for dinner, he followed the same path he had for months, on his way, once again, to the Room of Requirement.

He automatically went through the ritual of it all and pushed open the doors harbouring centuries of Hogwarts trash.

The room was cathedral-like and seemed endless, the towers of forgotten goods like pillars reaching from floor to ceiling. This room was for the broken and lost. A forgotten shrine to what once had use. He could relate to that, his surroundings always mocking him the further he walked through the mess. But today he wasn't going to wallow in self pity, today he was going to release some pent up rage.

He raised his wand and started blasting objects at random, watching calmly as wooden desks exploded and pages from books littered the air.

The momentum built and he aimed higher, causing tower after tower to crumble and fall all around him. He cleared a path through the wreckage and started again, an autonomous repetition that comforted as he destroyed. He doubted there would be enough in this room to satiate his need for violence; regardless, he had no intention of stopping. The feeling of accomplishment grew as he watched a cascading tower completely engulf and bury a shiny, crown-like treasure that had been resting on a small table. Something that perfect deserved to be buried under fractured wood and decay. He wished he could tear down the entire room on top of that treasure.

He ignored the twinge of dark magic he felt as he kept moving forward.

His face felt tight and rigid, the sweat building the more he destroyed. He didn't know how long he had been in there but it must have been hours, or it felt like that at least. Eventually he exhausted himself to the point where his wand was barely able to conjure a flicker of light.

So he threw that in frustration, too.

And then watched it roll and land at the feet of a person a short distance away.

He saw who it was and barked out a hoarse laugh. Of course it would be her.

"Well," he started, straightening out his robes, "care to join in on the fun?"

Hermione looked at him with that face that made him want to scream and shake her.

"I'm here because of this," she held up an old potions book, "this is the book that Harry found the spell that he used on you. It's Professor Snape's."

"Ah, hiding the evidence now are we? I love the fucking irony that it's Snape's, it explains a lot." He shoved his hands into his pockets.

"You know that I had nothing to do with this! I'm furious with Harry! He could have killed you!" She angrily shot back, stepping forward to be closer to him.

He knew it was petty being angry with her, he wasn't really, he was just so angry that it clouded his usual sense of rationality.

"I know you had nothing to do with it, I also know that you've spent the last three nights by my bedside in the hospital wing."

"Yes," she admitted without a shred of embarrassment at being caught.

"I did that once, too." He told her, watching as she stopped, just a short distance between them.

"When?" she asked, before carelessly throwing Snape's book into a pile of shredded parchment.

"When you were petrified. I came to see you."

She nodded and quirked a small smile. "I'd always thought that you might have, it's something that you would do." She paused for a moment and he knew she was going to fish for answers.

"What's going on, Draco?" She turned serious in an instant, and he saw she was looking at his sallow skin and the darkened marks under his eyes.

"Just games, Granger. The usual." he answered, evasively waving his hand as if it was nothing.

He knew that she knew better than that. He also knew that she wouldn't push him on the matter.

"You're not stupid, Draco, far from it. I can help you," she reached for his hand and squeezed it softly in reassurance. In reality, it caused him to feel nothing but frustration that she would believe herself to be capable of helping him.

"How can you be so smart, yet so naive? There are no choices here, no matter what side you're on. Either way, we're all being used and most of us won't survive what's coming," he blankly stated, his cynicism of life practically leaching from his every pore.

She removed her hand from his and stepped closer, raising her arms and pulling him close, holding him to her with her cheek pressed up against his.

He didn't even think about rejecting her, holding her back and accepting the moment for what it was.

Her soft hand started to stroke the back of his neck, her fingertips grazing across his hairline before she whispered in his ear.

"I'd rather die on my feet, than live on my knees."

He grasped her waist tighter. "That's a pretty quote," he whispered back, " but it doesn't give much incentive for those of us born on our knees, now does it?"

"Ok, Draco, we'll keep playing the game," he read the sadness in her gaze and didn't miss the longing either. It was what it was.

She turned and walked away.

**_~0~_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The dialogue in italics, between Hermione and Ron, is taken straight from HBP.
> 
> One chapter left!


	7. The final gift

_Hogwarts 1997_

He had read about war, studying meticulously for months, fascinated by how battles were won and victims slain. He'd trained for war, too, honing his body's agility and revelling in his growing strength. He was more than adept with devising attack formations, the strategic planning becoming second nature, as natural to him as breathing. He'd obsessed about war to the point where he felt he could control every facet, easily counteracting any situation to become the victor. War was in his blood now, he was ready, he was willing, and he knew what to do.

Nothing, _nothing_ could have prepared him for the reality of what words and actions succumbed to in a real life setting.

War was not beautiful in its strategy, for there was none when limbs were ripped from screaming bodies, scrambling to find some false sense of security away from the pain.

Strength was not synonymous with agility, for how could that grace of movement flow when encased in wall to wall of flame?

It was clear to him that war was not in his blood. He was not in control, and he was not willing.

The sheer violence of the Battle of Hogwarts made nausea ebb and flow as he descended further and further into the chaos. The junior Death Eater Battalion was the second to last before the precious elders of the cause deemed it prudent to join the fray.

The first few volleys had consisted of lesser creatures, Giants and the like, who had caused mayhem and distraction more than anything else. The group following, made largely of snatchers and the werewolf contingent, were more precise in their attack, weaving through the Giants to easily launch death blows to the overrun fighters of the light.

Strategy had mostly melted away and guerilla warfare was taken up by both sides as blood seemingly rained from the skies. Small pockets of fighters banded together finding random targets, cutting them down swiftly before moving on to the next most opportune victim.

Both sides were equally fighting dirty.

He'd barely managed to escape some Dementor's being herded by Patronuses on the lake front. The bright white creatures were roaming in tight circles, pushing the surrounded Death Eaters closer to the water's edge where their souls were quickly devoured. He'd seen the majority of the bodies drowning shortly after, not even trying to save themselves. He couldn't decide if it was a small mercy or not.

The battle hadn't even reached its crescendo and he was already bone weary, nearing an exhaustion that would be deadly to his self preservation. He wished it felt more surreal, anything to displace himself from the physical reminders that he was walking over splintered bone and chunks of severed flesh.

The adjacent sounds reverberating around him drilled into his skull with a permanence he knew he would never forget. Even the air tasted of metallic ash, the blood sickly mingling with the atmosphere with each breath.

Face to face, war was the most sensory experience in every macabre way.

It was hours before faces blurred and the overwhelming assault on his senses eased. The small immunity he'd quickly developed to his surroundings was enough for him to be able to fight back. And fight he did. He killed quickly and as cleanly as possible, discretion being of the utmost importance.

His Battalion had pledged to one another that their main targets would consist of the higher ranking Death Eaters. This was crucial for survival no matter who won the castle at the end. If the other side won they could use their traitorous actions to reduce time in Azkaban and show proof of their lack of loyalty. If the Dark Lord won, higher ranking positions within the Organisation would be quickly available, allowing the allied youths to have more control in the consolidation of power phase with the defeat of the resistance.

Being Slytherin to the core, the youths banded together in agreeance. The biggest hurdle now was not to be caught.

It all sounded so blissfully simple in its cunning before he'd actually witnessed death first hand. Now, between kills, he staved off the flood of panic, the adrenaline rising and crashing again as he moved too slowly through the crumbling halls of a broken Hogwarts.

The already fractured world ceased to exist for just a moment when he finally spotted her amongst it all. She was glorious, passionate, and so beautiful, regardless of her torn clothes and bruised body covered in grime. It was so wrong to see her there, but absolutely right all the same. He equally loved and hated her for her bravery, just like he always had. Faced with life and death did not alter that at all. That, he decided, was definitely a small mercy.

She was fighting off three Death Eater's as Weasley ran and dived into a girls bathroom in a seemingly insane move from his perspective. It jolted him into action, rage for her abandonment pushing him forward to come to her aid.

They deflected and attacked, weaving between each other like a dance, to finally fight side by side. The three Death Eaters became two, their volleys becoming increasingly dark in their desperation to overcome the surprising duo.

He could see the fight in her wavering, her chapped lips shaking as each curse left her mouth. Her eyes blinked too rapidly and her movement became forced to compensate for her many injuries; he couldn't even catalogue how many she had suffered, every visible part of her skin seemed wounded. He'd focussed on her for too long and didn't even register her scream of his name, the warning too late. The explosion encased him in slow motion and for a moment; all he knew was a ringing in his ears as his back made a solid impact with the rock strewn floor.

On his back he held his breath as the clouded debris settled. The environment had changed and he realised he was now in the remains of a classroom on the floor below, looking up into the gaping hole in the ceiling he had just fallen through.

It was peaceful for just a moment, having his other senses dulled as he focused his gaze on the dust motes so delicately raining around him. He would've been ok with staying this way for quite some time, the slowness and quietness freeing him from the chaos of reality.

"Draco," she whispered, "Draco you need to move."

"No, Hermione, I don't think I will," he answered in a similarly quiet tone.

Her head rested on his chest, their bodies aligned where they had fallen together. It took a moment for him to realise this and an even longer pause before he slowly moved his arms to encase her against him.

"Let's just stay like this, please?" He eyed the top of her head, willing her to agree, just this once.

"Ok," she murmured, her voice muffled by his clothes. "But then you need to keep going, we don't end like this."

"Maybe we should though, wouldn't it be better?" he tried to reason.

"No, this isn't what we do. You know that."

"I've decided after all these years I like us being on equal ground. It's better this way."

She raised her head and looked at him with pitying eyes, her hand cupping his cheek that she gently stroked with her thumb. "You win this time Draco," she leaned down and softly brushed her lips against his before she disappeared from his hold completely.

Time trickled on and it could have been infinite for all he knew. Somehow, he became aware that he was walking once again. The protective delirium slowly dissolving as everything came rushing back.

He would have given his life for it to return.

**_~0~_ **

_Present Day_

Draco remembered the moment he went back to the empty classroom and found her lifeless body amongst the rubble. It wasn't until he saw her there, with his own clouded eyes that he knew their moment had never happened, even though he wished it with every fibre of his being.

He'd caught her in his arms as he watched her last spell leave her lips in their duel. He'd caught her before the flash of green had fully dissipated, just before the explosion had struck. In his state of shock he had created a last moment, a lingering memory that he could latch onto. It was a gift and a punishment, that it had all happened in his mind, but the feeling of it being real had meant more than the stars above, and all the world.

After the battle was over, he had instinctively gone back to the classroom, just to confirm what his heart already knew. His vision had remained locked onto her face as he draped his cloak over her, so very gently, before lifting her in his arms and taking her to her final resting place where he now stood.

The first year he had come back to visit her grave he did nothing but cry, a single word or phrase not being enough to express his remorse.

The second year he still said nothing, spending hours transfiguring flowers trying to find the right combination. The scorch marks from his frustration still stained the edges of the tombstone. Another reminder of his many failures.

The third year he had strode through the graveyard with determination. He didn't even look where he was headed, already knowing the dreaded route too well. He sat, that day, reading aloud _Hogwarts: A History_ , front to back, till dawn. A very quiet and uncharacteristically still Crookshanks nestled in his lap.

It was now the fourth anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts, four years since he had last seen her alive and he was finally ready to voice what he never had been willing to when he'd had the chance.

He'd approached her resting place more slowly this time, deliberately taking in every detail of his surroundings and appreciating the small beauty the world still held for him.

It helped too, that he knew he had finally found the right gift for her. The object in his pocket felt comforting in his palm as he lifted it out and began to speak.

"I know my words are empty, my promises even more so. But I'm going to show you, Hermione, I'm going to spend the rest of my life showing you what I can be."  
He knelt down, and placed a blackened, twisted diadem next to the headstone.

"I love you, I think you knew it, too. We almost made it, didn't we?" He ended with a choked whisper, reverently brushing his fingers across the lettering of her name.

The shadows melted away around him and the surrounding trees quieted as the sun fully set with his confession.

The pain in his chest receded and he left it at that, no goodbye or see you soon being spoken.

The pain slowly shifted, a tingling crawl that steadily became a burn on his left forearm.

He glanced down to the mark he knew was etched on his hidden skin, hoping this was the last time he would have to heed it's call.

It was time for no more almosts.

**_~0~_ **

The saddest word

in the whole wide world

is the word: almost

He was almost in love.

She was almost good enough.

He almost stopped her.

She almost waited.

He almost lived.

They almost made it.

_Nikita Gill_

_**~0~** _

_**The End** _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Hope to hear your thoughts :)


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